My Feelings

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my feelings this time

don’t want to stay on

paper or even reach it

there’s is a modesty

to them as they rise

from my aging family

I move from pangs

of anxious pain to

serenity as giving

honor to vulnerability

brought forth a new

sweetness to be

savored alone

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Summer Poems – Vintage

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summer is usual

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year after year

I seldom stop

to realize the cycles

in my own life

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I just hung out in the

yard to dry some clothes

I wore when I was sixteen

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colorful clashing joyful

lightly sprayed to let

the sun iron them

back to life they are

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called vintage nowadays

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Inedita – Bellezza

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Sunday’s posts are dedicated to Italian Poetry

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manco

nel narrare la bellezza

un attributo divino

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le parole allineate come perle

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pronte per essere collana

e io che non trovo

il filo

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If you wish to read the English Version click here.

Sì, la domeninca le poesie saranno in italiano!

Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.

Summer Poems – We Stall

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we stall through August

aside the rare days

when the sky thundered

the wind hissed and shout

and we run up and down

closing windows pulling

shades and lifting chairs

the following steps

were those of picking up

the tender plants uprooted

from the garden the scattered

tomatoes and plums

august with its singing nights

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Summer Poems – Mirrors

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summer comes
with invisible mirrors
on which each one stares
poses and eventually
struts away

indifferent are the spaces

on which people pause
I look up at the abundance
of details I look at them
and turn my eyes to
the parching fields

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Summer Poems – The Dog

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she huffs and puts her face
down lined up with the concrete
patiently waiting for me

to remember to feed her
as I read and write and forget

the cat comes protesting
instead loud and demanding
until I get up to feed them both

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Secret Name

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I dreamed my secret name

yes it was written

on a white stone

everything was crystal

clear then just like

the sky today harmony

coated and I felt so

relaxed so sleepy

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I fell into another night

when I woke up I could

not make out the writing

and I got news of more

deaths more killings

more drowning crimes

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if I could if I just could

tell everybody their

secret names

waking them up to life

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La bellezza

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Sunday’s posts are dedicated to Italian Poetry

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la conoscenza non è
l’intuizione della bellezza

non colpisce allo stesso modo
nè affonda come una radice sottile

nutrendo l’anima come
una pupilla dilatata che si apre

alla meraviglia
la bellezza è spontanea

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hipstamaticphoto-582392065.386513

 

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Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano!

Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.

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